


Teacups and Spiders

by MapleTreeway



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Arachnophobia, M/M, Modern AU, bard is more shocked at the size of said spider, thranduil's afraid of spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 04:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3195230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleTreeway/pseuds/MapleTreeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just looked at him, beady eyes boring down from the ceiling. Thranduil felt cold fear rise up within him as he took a few steps backwards. Not many things scared him, but spiders? They were one of the few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacups and Spiders

**Author's Note:**

> Right so this is my first Barduil fic. I have become Barduil trash. There is no escape, I see no hope. Also I haven’t written in a while, so I’m a little rusty.  
> The spider in this story is a wild tarantula.  
> Disclaimer: Obviously not mine.

All Thranduil wanted was a nice cup of green tea. That was it. Just a nice cup of tea before starting to work on his latest fashion creation. The children were at school, Bard was working, and he was the only one in the house since he preferred to work from home. At eleven thirty in the morning, sunshine spilling in through the open window, a picture of absolute peace…was it any wonder why?

Flicking his long, golden-silver hair over his shoulder, Thranduil hummed quietly as he opened the cupboard. Inside were numerous cups and glasses sorted from tallest to shortest. In one deft movement he picked one out, only to gasp and drop it on the floor a second later. The ceramic splintered into broken shards, much to Thranduil’s dismay, and a black object fell alongside it. Holding back a shriek, the fashion designer practically jumped on top of the counter.

The spider had fallen on its back and was now waving its atrocious, hairy legs in the air. To be quite honest, Thanduil did not feel an ounce of sympathy for it. If it had been, say, a kitten or a duckling instead, he would've gladly helped the poor creature. But it wasn't. It was a giant-ass spider who’d been vacating his favorite tea cup and he’d be damned if he helped it!

Pale blue eyes watched the intruder warily, never letting it out of eyesight. He knew from experience that to let it out of eyesight would mean a certain jump-scare later on down the line somewhere. Probably in his room. Or, dare he think it, the bathroom. The man suppressed a shudder as he silently moved across the counter-top.

How should he vanquish this beast? A shoe wouldn't kill that wretched thing – it was too big. A plate perhaps? No that wouldn't do. He’d already broken one cup, which was already one too many things broken today. What about –

Oh sweet Jesus the thing _moved_. 

“Bard?” Thranduil called out, voice rising an octave. He knew it was hopeless; his husband was out working. 

Which made him alone to deal with this accursed eight-legged monster.

…Who had somehow managed to flip itself over and start scuttling up the counter.

This time Thranduil did let out a shriek, jumping down onto the floor. He quickly grabbed a broom and tried to hit the spider, who was scuttling up the wall. When his efforts proved fruitless due to the spider lodging itself into an unreachable corner, he cursed aloud. “I will have your head!” He exclaimed.

The spider just moved down wall.

“Oh hell _no._ ”

He whacked at it again, strands of hair falling in his face. But the spider just scuttled up into its corner once more. And it just looked at him, beady eyes boring down from the ceiling. Thranduil felt cold fear rise up within him as he took a few steps backwards. Not many things scared him, but spiders? They were one of the few. Well whatever. He could wait until the thing died of starvation or someone came home to kill it for him. Not a big deal. He could wait. 

So Thranduil hopped onto the kitchen island, sat down, and watched.

\---

Was this creature playing mind games? It had been two hours since the staring competition began, and every so often the spider would move. If Thranduil hadn't known better, he’d say it moved just to spite him (or strike fear into his heart, not that he’d openly admit it). Yet whenever Thranduil moved to get the broom, it’d dash back to its safe haven. _What a coward_ , the fashion designer thought. His steepled his fingers, leaning forward ever so slightly. The newly-braided hair fell across his shoulders as he thought of how to best get rid of it without burning the house down.

The ongoing silence that had occurred for the past two hours was broken by the front door closing. “Hello?” Bard called out. “Is anyone here?”

Thranduil darted his eyes to the clock. One thirty-eight, it read. Sighing, he answered, “In the kitchen.”

A moment later Bard entered his peripheral vision. “What are you doing on the counter?”

“There is a giant spider.”

When there came no answer, Thranduil turned his head to look at his husband. Said husband was crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. So he raised one back. “Problem?” The taller man questioned.

“No, love. Just…a _spider?_ ”

Inclining his head, the fashion designer pointed to the ceiling corner opposite from him. “It is right there for you to see.”

“You’re frightened of a _spider?_ ”

Thranduil bit back sarcastically, “No, Bard. I’m afraid of teacups.” 

Bard’s blue eyes shifted to where the broken teacup lay on the ground, Thranduil still not having picked it up yet. Sighing, he mused, “That would make sense…”

If he hadn't caught the arachnid moving from his peripheral vision, the blond would've given a small smile. As it were, the demon from hell had somehow managed to move out of its corner to the middle of the ceiling. Now it was less than a meter away, just staring at them both. Thranduil tensed, every inch of him wanting to jump off the counter and hide behind Bard. But that was undignified and childish, so he refrained. 

Besides, it didn't look like Bard was faring any better either. Rather, the archer’s face grew pale and his eyes wide as he looked on in growing horror. He stood rooted to the spot, seemingly unable to move. “You cannot be serious,” he breathed.

“Do you see my problem now?” 

“Where did that thing come from?”

“The pits of hell. Obviously.”

“Now is not the time, Thranduil.” Bard chastised. His voice seemed strained, almost...fearful.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “Do not tell me that you are afraid of it too.”

“It’s…it’s big.”

“Congratulations, Sher –“

“ _Thranduil._ ”

Blue eyes flashed, but the fashion designer said nothing more. Turns out, he didn't need to due to the spider moving towards him again. Letting out a small scream, he jumped off the counter and ran to where his husband stood. “Do something!” He exclaimed.

Bard blinked and turned to him. “Me?!” 

“Yes you!”

“Why me?”

Thranduil used the first thing to pop into his mind. Granted, it wasn't the best excuse; but it was still an excuse. “Because I have wasted two hours of my life making sure this _beast_ ,” he waved a hand in the direction of the spider, "didn't end up in another part of the house."

“That's your fault then."

"Well would you rather have it in the bedroom?"

Bard gave Thranduil an exasperated look. Fairly certain was he that it wouldn't ever end up in the other side of the house. Especially in two hours. But upon seeing his husband’s terrified, wild eyes, he sighed and motioned for the other to get out of the way. The blond did, opting to stand by the kitchen door. The black-haired man took off his shoe and very slowly approached the counter, climbing on and standing on it. Thranduil held his breath as he watched Bard try to smash the arachnid.

Only for the blasted thing to fall onto the ground.

“BARD!”

“I’m TRYING!”

“Try harder!”

“ _You_ try killing a tarantula!”

“Light it on fire!”

“Are you insane?!” Bard exclaimed, pausing halfway from taking off his other shoe to look at his husband.

Thranduil didn't reply. The twitch of his lip was the only answer as his eyes bore down at the spider, face impassive. His fingers curled around the frame of the door; which, for all the years Bard had known him, meant he was nervous.

A moment later an audible smack of a shoe hitting the floor was heard. Followed by a squelch as the arachnid was turned to nothing but blood and crushed body parts. Since the shoe wasn't big enough to cover it, its legs and abdomen stuck out, making it an unpleasant sight to see.

“Right,” Bard began, clapping his hands together, “now it’s dead. Time for you to clean it up.”

Thranduil tilted his head and gave the archer a How-Dare-You-Say-That-To-Me-I-Am-Greatly-Offended look.

Bard just smirked in response, jumping off the counter.

“You cannot be serious.” The fashion designer stated in disbelief.

“Watch me.”

And with that, Bard clapped Thranduil on the shoulder before walking out of the room. The taller man didn't have to look to know the other was grinning broadly. Annoyance crept up on him and he glared at the dead arachnid. Stupid thing. It was all its fault that not only was his favorite teacup broken, but Bard found out about his silly fear. Stupid stupid _stupid_ blasted spider.


End file.
